


Shall Receive

by Ladycat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney had breaking points just like everyone else, although his, of course, were bizarrely quixotic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall Receive

Surprisingly, it was Rodney who suggested it.

His arms were folded tightly against his chest, mouth slashing towards the floor with his eyes full of miserable shame, but his chin was up and his shoulders were back and steady. "It's not exactly uncommon," he added. "A man with my obvious gifts and my position -- "

"Shut up, Rodney." It wasn't an order, not really; Rodney never responded to those unless he was so turned on that he'd do _anything_ so long as John didn't stop. That had only happened a few times, so far, and each time _John_ had been more rung-out afterward.

Rodney shut up immediately.

Sitting on the bed, John gestured absently for Rodney to join him, slinging an arm around Rodney's waist and pulling his bulk against John's chest, his chin tucked into the crook of Rodney's neck. It was a position Rodney _hated_ , and one John loved -- and he was well aware why Rodney was allowing it now.

"How many times?"

"It's not like I've counted! But sometimes there comes a time when even men with my obvious -- " Rodney broke off, wincing at John's low growl. John was getting a lot better at those. "Five times."

"A session?"

"No. Ever." Rodney was back to miserable, shoulders hunching against John's chest like if he could turn away enough, he could pretend he wasn't really seeing this, wasn't feeling the heat of John's body pressed up against his back, the scratch of stubble reddening his neck.

"Girls or boys?"

"Both? One guy. The rest were women."

John nodded slowly: he could guess which of those five events had meant the most to Rodney. "Okay."

"Okay?"

John nipped Rodney's shoulder, hard enough to make him jump. "Okay. Get undressed."

Rodney immediately scrambled to his feet, undressing fast enough that clothing almost tore. "You don't have to," he mumbled as his shirt went over his head. "It's not required, but I just -- "

John slapped his pants covered ass, hard. "I know what this is," he said, patiently. "Stop talking and get undressed." John removed his own shoes and socks, stripping off his shirt but leaving his pants on. The friction would help.

He really _did_ understand, too. Rodney had breaking points just like everyone else, although his, of course, were bizarrely quixotic. It wasn't a string of problems that was the impetus, but a string of _successes_. The scientists had successfully cut power consumption down fifty percent without limiting or curtailing current output requirements, thanks to a major breakthrough with ZPM technology. It'd come almost entirely from Rodney's brain, even if he'd had help implementing it, and for almost two weeks he'd been at his most smug, enjoying the glory of coming one step closer to manufacturing, or even recharging, their very own ZPM.

Naked, Rodney put his knee on the bed before freezing. "Um."

John sat on the side of the bed, shifting his ass backwards until he was as far back as he could go and still sit up straight. There wasn't a lot of room on Ancient beds, but Rodney was able to crawl into his lap with nothing hanging too egregiously off the edge.

This was the hard part. John could say things like 'I've never done this before' or 'I feel like an idiot'. Both were true. But Rodney had _asked_ for something, actually asked as opposed to extolling the virtues of whatever it was he wanted and sometimes physically manhandling John until he was forced to gasp out pleasure-soaked agreement.

Swallowing back his uncertainty, John put his hands on Rodney's ass and rubbed over both cheeks in a way he hoped as soothing. Rodney was tense, shoulders locked so tightly they probably ached, the muscles of his ass surprisingly rock hard under his touch. "Spread your legs a little."

"How is that -- "

"Don't talk." This time, it _was_ an order and Rodney muttered furiously for a few seconds before grudgingly spreading his legs an inch or two. It wasn't much, but it would serve.

Sliding his hands down, John rubbed the back of Rodney's thighs, working specifically on hamstrings he knew were unbelievably tight, starting from the back of Rodney's knees to the sweet curve of his ass. "I wanted this," he said slowly. Talking was never his thing, but Rodney loved it. "Your ass. You have a great ass, McKay."

Rodney harrumphed into the bed. "You're not exactly the first to tell me that."

John slapped him lightly, smiling at Rodney's gasp and the way his whole body shuddered. Yeah, he could do this. "Spread 'em wider. Yeah, that's good. It was the second thing I noticed about you. You know what the first was," he said, stroking lightly over Rodney's sac before thumbing over the perineum. Rodney was far more sensitive here than John was. "I wanted your mouth first, just like everybody. To push you down and shut you up, filling you until you dripped with it. Pretty sure I'm not the only one who wants to do that." By now, Rodney was shifting on the bed, weight on his knees as he tried to grind his hardening cock against John's thighs.

John responded with a resounding smack, instantly stilling Rodney's movements. "Lift up." Tucking Rodney's cock between his legs was ridiculously awkward, but John managed it before returning to stroking Rodney's perineum, long sweeps that tickled his sac and ended with a light touch between his cheeks. "I bet you every woman on this base has fantasized about you going down on them, straddling your face while you did something _productive_ for once." Another slap, this one a little harder, making Rodney grunt. "But I've already got that," he said as smug as Rodney ever was, slapping down on the other cheek. "It's your _ass_ I wanted."

Rodney was panting by now, fingers clenching and unclenching rhythmically until the sheets snarled around his fingers, a tangle of blue and white. "Are you going to make me beg?"

He probably didn't mean for his voice to be so small.

Four slaps in quick succession while Rodney whined and arched up into John's hand. "Don't talk," John ordered, as harshly as he dared while tacitly reassuring Rodney. No, John didn't want him to beg. Not now, anyway, when Rodney had already asked and John had already agreed. "Of course I wanted to fuck your ass. But that's not all I wanted to do."

By now Rodney's skin was a light, tempting red. John alternated slaps of increasing pressure with stroking between Rodney's legs, forcing Rodney to keep them spread open wider than he obviously wanted.

"I wanted to feel it," John said, and this time when his hand came down the sound echoed through the room, sound waves rebounding against each other until John could feel it in his gut. He stayed away from a recognizable pattern -- Rodney was good at picking those up, and he didn't want Rodney tensed and waiting.

 _Rodney_ didn't want to be tensed and waiting.

It'd been quiet up until this point, only John's words and Rodney's occasional sharp, muffled moan. As John grew more confident, though, Rodney stopped being able to swallow back his noises. It started out as those tense cries everyone made when something hurt, a verbal equivalent of the jerks his body gave with each new slap. The sounds started spiraling higher and longer and with a whine that made John's stomach clench with twisted enjoyment, his cock throbbing against Rodney's stomach.

"I wanted to do this," he said, low and grating as each new twitch and shudder of Rodney's body began to get to him. "I wanted to see you here, under my hand." Slap, slap, slap, harder and harder John spanked him, his own hips pushing up rhythmically, needing relief even as he gave it. He _felt_ the exact moment Rodney broke, when his mind finally turned off, and almost, John stopped right there.

But he couldn't, not yet.

Too turned on to speak normally, John didn't fight the sandpaper whisper that came out. "I'm gonna fuck you after this, Rodney. While your ass is red and sore. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit for _days_ , and if you aren't tight enough, I'll spank you again, until you're nice and tight and perfect for me, make you clench just right around me. And you know what's gonna happen then, Rodney?" He was too turned on to prevent a rhythm now, but Rodney didn't notice. He was too busy writhing under John's hand, his body completely out of control as he pushed back for each new slap, muffled sounds that could've been sobs the only indication that it hurt beyond the pleasure of it. _Slap, slap, slap_. "I'm gonna make you suck me hard again, make you take me when it _really_ starts to hurt, when you can't do anything but moan as I fuck you."

 _Slap._ Rodney shouted into the bed, shuddering hard enough that he almost rolled off. John pressed down harder with his left hand, forcing Rodney still. He was really hitting hard now, watching the way the reddened flesh of Rodney's ass jiggled and moved like waves as John's hand came down over and over.

Panting himself, John licked his lips and forced his voice as iron as could. "Tell me you don't want it."

Rodney was probably crying by now, obviously unable to talk, but he nodded as forcefully as he could. John got in two more hard slaps, one on each cheek, before shoving Rodney further down the bed -- his face and nose probably had sheet-burn, but neither of them seemed to care -- frantically getting his fly undone with one hand and search for the lube with the other. Why the hell hadn't he gotten that out earlier? The drawer didn't want to open, and Rodney really _was_ crying, a horrible sound in a grown man, but John knew there was no pain in it, just want so powerful it was like being inside a bell when it was rung, his entire body vibrating and burning with need.

 _"Please,"_ Rodney whined, grinding himself against the bed even as he widened his legs as far as they could go, rocking backwards in obvious invitation.

Finally, _finally_ , John got himself free and slicked up enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn't hurt Rodney more, scrambling in between his legs to line up and _push_ , all the way in with a single stroke.

It helped, he realized dimly, that they did this often enough that this wouldn't hurt Rodney. Because at that moment, he was pretty sure Rodney wouldn't _know_ he was being hurt, too frantic to pay attention to anything but getting relief.

John fucked him hard: short, brutal strokes that had Rodney lifting off the bed, mewling as John rubbed against his sore ass. It was rough, and frantic, and every muscle in John's body was screaming by the time he inhaled sharply, tensing as he shuddered and came inside of Rodney.

Who still hadn't come.

Remaining inside, John leaned down to nuzzle and bite at the back of Rodney's neck. "Want it?" he taunted.

Rodney was beyond words by now, scrabbling uselessly at the bed while he humped himself raw. The nice thing to do would be haul Rodney's hips up and reach around, giving him that little bit of friction he needed. Except, this wasn't about John being nice -- that was for another time. Now was for John being what Rodney _needed_.

He was softening, but John still managed to roll his hips so he was angled just right, sucking up bruises on Rodney's shoulders as he let his hand crash down one final time. It hit more of Rodney's hip than his ass, catching John as well, but it was that final burst of sensation Rodney needed: he gave an agonized moan as he finally came all over the bed.

Eventually, it was John who cleaned them both up, rolling a practically comatose Rodney this way and that as he stripped off the stained cover -- the sheets below were fortunately dry -- wiping Rodney down carefully, cleaning not just his stomach but his face as well, removing as much of the physical evidence as he could. It wasn't really giving Rodney his dignity back, but if he wanted to take that route, well, John wouldn't object.

He was extra careful as he went lower. Rodney's stomach and thighs were raw from rubbing up against John's pants, and it'd probably hurt later. His ass absolutely would.

Sliding under the covers, John didn't try to curl up with Rodney, waiting until he stopped huddling at the side of the bed, where he'd crawled while John was in the bathroom. He wasn't exactly sure what to do now, but the hunch of Rodney's shoulders was a clear signal: _stay away_.

Trying not to be put out, John focused on waiting as patiently as he could. He wanted Rodney close to him, yes, to feel that each breath was clear and easy and Rodney was okay. There were too many ways this could have gone wrong.

But Rodney wasn't there yet, and John wasn't going to push.

After nearly five minutes of tortured restraint, Rodney abruptly rolled over to nuzzle into John's neck, accepting the arms that settled around him. "I have arnica gel," Rodney offered, almost shyly.

John wasn't precisely sure what that was, but he could make a guess; Rodney wasn't that spontaneous. He pulled Rodney closer, brushing his mouth against his face and hair. "I'll rub it on you, later."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

It wasn't quite a declaration of being okay, but Rodney's body was heavy and growing heavier as he moved even closer, breathing evening out -- and he was holding onto John as tightly as a nearly-asleep person could.

Close enough.


End file.
